18
“Iloved that dress on you,” Claudia presses the elevator button. “We should all go out for dinner, and you could wear it. It would look fantastic with those red heels you have. You need a night out, girl.”
I smile but don’t say a word. Maybe she’s right. Claudia thought that shopping might cheer me up. I tried to tell her that my brain doesn’t quite work like hers. I tried to explain that a new skirt wouldn’t miraculously make everything right, but she wouldn’t hear it.
So a dress, two tops, and a pair of brand new jeans later, I stand in the elevator, trying to mentally figure out how much money I’ve just spent. The elevator doors open at the second floor and Claudia kisses me goodbye.
I stare at my feet on the way to my floor, and I finally look up when the elevator doors ping open. I don’t step out. I just stand there. And stare at him. He doesn’t move either, as frozen as I am. The elevator doors start to close and I reach for the button. The doors open again and I step out.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.”
He looks amazing in a stylish brown suede jacket, sporting a week-old beard. I hate that he looks so good. “You’ve been busy?”
He nods, staring at the floor. “Yes.”
Rage consumes me as it works its way from my core to all my extremities. I’m suddenly hot… breathless. “I can’t believe you. I thought you were different.”
“I’m sorry, Abby—”
“You’re just like all those other guys your age. What’s wrong with your generation? It’s all sex, Tinder and fucking around. You spoiled entitled kids are so full of yourselves. You’re incapable of love, of real relationships. You just use people, and you don’t give a shit about them. It’s all about one-night stands, isn’t it? God, I’d love to read a study about your generation, about why you’re all so fucked up and selfish. You’re a pig.”
I blow out a breath, and notice that I’m shaking.
“Are you done now?” he asks. “I’m not like that. You got me all wrong. Have you ever thought that I might have stuff going on? That this might not be about you?”
I cross my arms, not quite knowing what to say. How did he manage to turn the conversation around and makemelook like the bad guy?
“I like you, Abby. I really like you. And no, you’re not too old for me. And no, I don’t sleep around. And yes, that night we shared meant something,” he snaps. “It meant a fucking lot. I wish it didn’t.”
“So what then?” I ask, confused. “Why are—”
“I just can’t right now, Abby. You and me…”
“You and me… what?” I desperately want to know why we can’t be together. What’s wrong with us?
“I gotta go,” he says. “I’m running late.”
Running late for what?
Someone else?
As soon as I step into my apartment, I plop down on my sofa, shopping bags in hands. Yes, that dress is gorgeous, and those jeans make my ass look great, and those tops are super cute, but they don’t mean a thing if I can’t wear them for Noah.
* * *
“There’sone way to find out,” Izzie was saying. We were trying to figure out if my older brother, Jake, had a girlfriend because he’d been acting kind of crazy. It was a beautiful sunny spring day. We should have been outside instead of making trouble inside.
“How?”
“D-i-a-r-y,” she whispered.
I laughed. “My brother doesn’t have a diary. He’s a guy.”
“Well, maybe he has some secret love letters.”
I smirked. “I highly doubt it. I don’t even think he has a girlfriend. Who could even like the jerk.”
